CHAPTER 14I
Kalvan’s horse stumbled, jerking him awake. Behind him, fifty-odd riders clattered, many of them more or less wounded, none seriously. There had been a score on horse-litters, or barely able to cling to their mounts, but they had been left at the base hospital in Sevenhills Valley. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he had had his clothes, or even all his armor, off; except for quarter-hour pauses, now and then, he had been in the saddle since daylight, when he had recrossed the Athan with the smoke of southern Nostor behind him.
That had been as bad as Phil Sheridan in the Shenandoah, but every time some peasant’s thatched blazed up, he knew it was burning another hole in Prince Gormoth’s morale. He’d felt better about it, today, after following the mile-wide sw
